Someday Is Everyday
by bluecarpet
Summary: With the Joker in Arkham, Bruce Wayne now has to defend his city from two new criminal masterminds. However, after saving a psychologically damaged hostage, he begins to examine his role as Gotham's protector. Story & chapter titles are PL songs.
1. Chapter 1: Take The Sun Away

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Batman, other criminals or Christopher Nolan's interpretation of his world. I only own the OCs and the plot. But you knew that already ;)

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><p>"They're going to get you, you know," Jonathan Crane snarled as he fought against his restraints. "They'll send you to Arkham with all the <em>crazies. <em>You wouldn't survive one night there, that I can promise you!"

He turned, looking down at the Scarecrow who was foaming with rage. The man had tried to distribute his fear toxin to some of the crime lords in the Narrows yet again. It was becoming a very predictable routine: Crane would be caught, sent to Arkham, break out and then try and regain his status as a feared criminal overlord. He continued to struggle against the ropes Batman had placed around his arms and in the process, his mask slipped off the back of his head and revealed his true face.

"I'm not finished with you! You can't just leave me here!" Crane screamed as he watched the dark figure disappear into the night.

In the distance, he could hear the dogs barking as they threatened to come closer. They had been chasing him all night, hoping to catch the vigilante known as Batman so he could answer for his crimes against Gotham. He quickly poked his head out of the alleyway, looking for the source of the barks. They were nowhere to been seen. Emitting a small sigh of relief, Bruce Wayne emerged from the shadows of the small Narrows alley where he had been hiding in and quickly took a black remote out of his pocket. Across the street, his Batbike quickly flashed its lights, alerting him to its location. He didn't have to worry about avoiding cars as he ran across the street for the Narrows were completely empty at this time of night.

As he mounted his bike and rode off into the night, Bruce began to reflect on the current state of his home city. After witnessing the death of Harvey Dent, Batman had told Commissioner Gordon to hunt him and he followed his orders to perfection. Shortly after Dent's funeral, the Commissioner had set up a press conference and tried to assure the people of Gotham that he was doing everything he could to keep them safe. Gotham police had apprehended the criminal known as The Joker and sent him to Arkham Asylum where he would be carefully watched and psychologically analyzed. They would bring him to trial once they had a solid understanding of his mental capacity. However, Gordon pointed out that the Gotham City Police Department needed to have a strong stance against the city's criminals and this included an assault on Batman as well. He announced that the department would be setting up nightly search parties that would patrol the Narrows and the rest of the city with a constant eye open for trouble. Not only would these search parties try and capture Batman but they would also be on the lookout for other criminal activities as well. Essentially, Gordon was trying to send the city back to a time where the police were the protectors and not some man dressed as a bat.

As Bruce turned the corner with blazing speed, he realized that he was not too far from his destination. While the police were hunting him and trying to maintain order, Batman had stayed in the shadows, waiting for other criminals to surface. There had been a couple Joker copycats but they were no match for the vigilante or the police department's search parties. However, Bruce noticed that all these copycats came from a similar source. Not only had they been introduced to each other in prison but after careful observation, he had learned they all frequented the same seedy nightclub in the Narrows: The Iceberg Lounge. Situated on North 33rd Street and Graves Avenue, the club operated like a large beacon to all criminals within the city limits. Although Bruce had never been inside, the dark red walls and tinted windows told him everything he needed to know. The Iceberg Lounge served strong drinks and attracted beautiful women and therefore became a haven for all criminal activity.

Bruce hadn't had time to visit Gordon and alert him of his new findings. Instead, he made it his nightly mission to observe the nightclub and gather more information before he decided to tear it down with his own hands. After parking the Batbike in the shadows of some random alley, he pulled out his grappling gun and soared upwards towards the nearest rooftop. Once on solid ground, he ran across the shingled roofs until he was perched across the street from the place. It did not disappoint him. It was Saturday night and The Iceberg Lounge was in full swing. The surrounding streetlights were dark, making the building the only lit location in the area. The music boomed as two large bouncers in black suits and sunglasses stood by the door with menacing looks on their faces. Bruce wondered if one had to get an invitation to enter or if one could simply just walk through the doors unharmed. Luckily enough, a small black town car pulled out of the shadows and stopped right outside the club. Bruce pulled out his mini binoculars in order to get a closer look at the person exiting the car. As he focused his vision, he could only see the back of someone's head as they opened the door and climbed out. However, the person turned to say something to the driver and revealed his profile. Bruce knew him instantly. It was Gianluigi Maroni, the son of Salvatore Maroni who Harvey Dent had killed in a planned car accident. As the new head of the Maroni crime family strode up to the doors, Bruce quickly slid down the building's fire escape to get a better look. Once in a better position, he watched as the two bouncers nodded their heads and let him into the club. This only confirmed Bruce's thoughts about what clientele The Iceberg Lounge attracted.

It was a mob hangout.

As the sun threatened to end the night and rise above the skyline, Bruce knew that he had to return home and sleep. He could watch the perimeter of the club some other night. Before leaving, he reached into his pocket and took out a tiny camera, which he placed on the railing he was standing next to. It was a way for him to keep an eye on the club when he couldn't be there. He crept down the rest of the fire escape and made his way back to the Batbike. After mounting it again, he sped off into the night while Gotham's criminals partied till the sun finally rose.

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><p>"I've told you this before Master Bruce. You can't hide in this shipping container forever. You're going to have to at least pretend to live a normal life," Alfred scolded as he walked over to computer screens with a breakfast tray in his hands. Bruce's hands fluttered over the keyboard in front of him, willing the camera he had placed to zoom in closer. The same bodyguards were still standing before the large black doors.<p>

"Did you even hear me?" Alfred questioned.

There was no response as Bruce reached out and plucked a roll off the tray next to him. He shoved it in his mouth before returning his hands to the keyboards. Alfred shook his head in disappointment as he placed the tray down on the desk and then went to remove his overcoat. As he did, Bruce double clicked his mouse and zoomed in closer. The doors opened. The two bouncers moved to the side as a man and a woman poured onto the street. They were obviously drunk as they stumbled to waiting town car. Bruce clicked his mouse, taking freeze frames of their faces. The man looked to be about 40 something. His slicked back black hair was covered by a large black top hat that almost fell off his head as he stumbled. He was also dressed in a matching pinstripe suit with a monocle placed in his right eye. He was unusually short and used his umbrella to lean on as he swayed back and forth. His face was etched in laughter as he looked at the blonde haired younger woman. She was dressed in a long red evening gown with matching lipstick and she slid her arm around his waist, pulling him closer. They teetered drunkenly towards the car and then finally sped off into the night as Bruce printed out the pictures he had just taken with his stealthy camera.

"What on earth are you doing Master Wayne? Making a shrine to Gotham's underbelly?" Alfred said quizzically as he looked at the collection of pictures Bruce had placed on a large corkboard. After placing the newest picture on top, Bruce turned towards his butler and explained.

"I've found their hideout," he started. "It's called The Iceberg Lounge. Every night, all the criminals gather here to drink and plot against the city. I placed a camera outside last night and have been taking candid pictures to confirm the clientele. This," he said pointing to one of the pictures on the bottom of the board, "is Gerald Fatone, the head of the Fatone crime family." He then raised his hand slightly, pointing to another picture. "This is Stephen Grise, a thief Gordon has yet to catch." He then pointed to the three pictures above it. "Martin, Theodore and Robert Dendren. The triplets. "

"Aren't those the men that tried to rob a bank last week?" Alfred said, astonished.

"Yes and Gordon's men let them get away. But that's beside the point. The man I'm most concerned about is this," Bruce replied, pointing to the most recent picture of the man in the top hat. "I've been able to recognize most of the guests but I had to look up his man on the computer that's connected to Gordon's. His name is Oswald Cobblepot and apparently he's the club's owner."

"He looks rather like a small bird," Alfred said, crinkling his nose in disgust.

"Funny you should notice that," Bruce chuckled as he made his way back to the printer. "Apparently he goes by the name of Penguin, according to Gordon's files. It could be because of his appearance or it could be because he never shows up in anything but a tuxedo. All I could gather is that he's a large benefactor to Gotham's crime families. His properties don't just stop at this club. He owns many slums across the city and gets his income from swindling people out of their money through gambling and prostitution."

"If Gordon has him in his computer, why hasn't he taken any action against this Penguin?" Alfred asked.

"He would have no support," Bruce said sighing as he ran a hand through his dark locks. "With Dent gone, there's no one to lead the investigation and there would certainly be no judge that would hear it after the fiascos with the Joker. But I think the biggest reason is that he doesn't want to investigate a place where his cops regularly visit." He then pointed to one of the pictures in the middle, showing a man in uniform next to the two bouncers, receiving a white manila envelope filled with cash. "This Penguin is bribing the search parties that roam through the Narrows in order to protect himself. So far, it's working."

"What are you going to do about it then?"

"Nothing at the moment," Bruce replied. "I need to gather more information before I can strike."

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><p>She sighed as she exited the doors of her large downtown office. It had been a long afternoon day of sorting and filing papers for her boss who had nothing better to do then yell at her on a Sunday. It was exhausting work and she hoped she was getting paid overtime. It wasn't likely considering her boss was a complete jerk. As she walked down the street towards the parking garage, she noticed that it was starting to rain. Just her luck. Her walk soon turned into a run as she shielded herself with a newspaper she had picked up from work and weaved through the pedestrians around her. Thankfully the parking garage wasn't that far away and she panted after making it to the elevator. She pressed the down button and in a couple seconds, it opened with a <em>ping! <em>She was happy it hadn't taken very long for the elevator to show up and stepped inside. Soon, she pressed the 'Door Close' button, wanting to get to her car as soon as possible so she could go home and take a nice long bath. She deserved it.

Suddenly, a hand reached into the elevator and stopped the doors from closing.

Once the doors were fully open, a man dressed in a dark black suit and with a matching black bowler hat joined her in the elevator. She immediately shuddered as she looked him up and down. He oozed danger with his skinny six-foot tall frame and large, twitching hands that held a small black cane. She couldn't see his eyes for they were covered with black Ray-Ban sunglasses but his smile could have easily put the Cheshire Cat to shame.

"Tell me," he asked as the doors shut, sealing them both, "do you like riddles?"

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><p>Author's Note: Hello and welcome to my story! I've been thinking about writing a Batman fanfic for a long time since The Dark Knight is my favorite movie EVER. While I want to take this story in a romantic direction, I also want to focus on the psychological aspects of the story as well. I thought Christopher Nolan did an excellent job of doing that in his movies. I'm not Nolan but I want to try and write the story like he would. Hope you like it and please review! I'd love your feedback!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2: Something's Wrong

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Batman, I do not own the Riddler, but I do own the narrator of this chapter :) Oh and I forgot to say this in the last chapter, but the title for the story is a title of a song by Pretty Lights. I did not come up with it.

_Warning_: this chapter has dark themes.

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><p>She awoke several hours later, not having any idea where she was. All she could remember was getting out of work and then going to her car in the elevator … and then it hit her. A man had entered and asked her if she liked riddles. She had replied no and then his hands had flown to her neck. She remembered the feeling of not breathing as she felt her fingers trace the bruises forming on the sides of her neck and then realized that everything had gone black very quickly. She could not account for anything that happened afterwards, including how she got here. The initial fear of not knowing her whereabouts subsided. She knew that if she was going to make it out alive, she had to be smart and use her prior knowledge. It was the stupid hostages who died.<p>

As she slowly sat up, she took in her surroundings. The man with the Ray-Bans and vicious grin had put her in a dark room only filled with one object: a large wooden table that was in the center. A lone light blub was lit above it, swinging ominously. Her right ankle had a shackle placed around it and she followed the chain links to the wall behind her.

She was his captive.

She desperately wanted to scream for help but cautiously kept quiet. If she screamed, he might muzzle her or even worse, hit her. He wouldn't kill her though. Somehow she knew that the man was not going to dispose of her right away. The chain links seemed to tell her that she was meant to stay here for a very long time. Was she to witness him murdering other people? Was that what the table was for? Was that the sick pleasure he wanted? Would he then turn on her after he had his fill? Would her body ever be on his table?

Suddenly, large beams of light burst from the right side of the room and she shielded her face so they wouldn't blind her. The light vanished as the sound of a door shutting filled the room, followed by the sound of footsteps coming nearer. She hugged her knees to her chest after closing her eyes and assumed the worst. However, the footsteps stopped and she opened her eyes slowly as she heard a large _thump! _

The man had brought something or someone with him.

"Good morning sunshine," he crooned as she watched him place a large white bag on the centered table. "So nice of you to join _me_." She didn't want to watch as he began to unzip his prize and instead focused on his features. He was dressed differently then when she had first seen him. Instead of the previous suit, he donned black dress pants, shiny black shoes and a black bowler hat with a green stripe around the brim that matched his dark green dinner jacket. He still had his cane, which he had leaned against the table. After closer inspection, she realized that the handle was shaped like the top of a question mark. Instead of the Ray-Bans, he wore a slim, black mask that covered his eyes but let her see his maniacal smile. She knew she would never be able to get that dapper, cunning smile out of her head for as long as she lived. Who was this man? She didn't dare to ask.

Once he finished unzipping the bag, he quickly discarded it and to her horror, she saw a young girl lying naked on the table. However, after closer inspection she realized that the girl on the table looked exactly like her and gasped audibly. She couldn't help herself. They both shared the same short stature and dark hair, full breasts, narrow waist and large hips. She had heard about this sort of thing happening before in the news. She quickly came to understand that he was now beginning to target women that resembled her. He was some sort of sick serial killer and she was to be his muse.

"You don't like her?" he asked, not caring for her response as he circled around the body on the table. "_I_ like her. I don't even know her name and I like her. In fact, I don't even know your name." He stopped what he was doing and then harnessed his cold stare towards her.

She didn't dare to respond as he crept closer.

"But more importantly, you don't know _my_ name. You don't know anything about _me_," he said, keeping that maniacal grin on his face as he knelt down in front of her. A moment of silence passed as they both looked at each other. From the close angle, she would have thought he was attractive if he didn't have her chained to the wall with another girl lying dead on the nearby table. Suddenly, his hand reached out and grabbed her by the chin. She had to look at his face as he spoke. "You may not know my name. You will only know me as The Riddler because _I_ have many riddles for you and the rest of Gotham. Are you ready? Here it goes. This is your first test. The maker makes it but does not use it. The buyer buys it but does not need it. The one who needs it will never know it. What is it?"

Another moment of silence passed as she tried to rack her brain for the answer so she could give him a response and stay alive. She had to be smart, she kept telling herself. Maybe then he would leave her alone. The maker makes it but does not use it … could this be some sort of tradesmen? What could he make? And the buyer buys it but does not need it … why would someone buy something if they did not need it? Who would need this obje-

"A coffin! The object is a coffin, you're right!" he exclaimed as he removed his hand from her face and began to clap to himself. "The maker makes one but doesn't need to use it until he's dead. The buyer buys – well you already know the rest. That one was easy. Here's another one for you. I know a word of letters three, add two and fewer there will be." She was about to protest and exclaim that she didn't know the answer to the first riddle, he had only supplied it for her, but kept silent. It seemed that not speaking was the best thing to do as he sat in front of her, humming the theme song to the popular game show Jeopardy. Once he got to the end of the song, he laughed. Time was running out.

"You're absolutely right, the word 'few' is correct! I'm going to have to make these harder then. Hm hm hm, what to ask next. Oh _I_ know! I am used to bat with, yet I never get a hit. I am near a ball but it is never thrown. What am I?" Her mind began to churn, thinking of why he was answering his own riddles instead of the answer to the question. Did he not trust her to make the right connection? Or did he just like the sound of his own voice?

"Right again! The answer is eyelashes just like you said! You're a good at these, I'm gonna keep you around longer than I planned. But speaking of plans," he said as he looked back to the girl on the table. She shuddered inwardly as he hopped up from the floor and strode over to his possession across the room. He whistled a little tune to himself as he pulled out a large black bag from under the table and took out 3 large cans of paint and a pair of gloves. After putting on the gloves, he opened the paint cans and dipped a finger inside. It came out green.

"You know, I really like the color green. I have since my childhood. I don't like plants, I just like green," he babbled as he began to draw on the body before him with the green paint. "I don't like yellow, yellow is too bright. Too cheery. But green, that's _my_ color. Green, green, green. No one can take that away from _me_." After he seemed to be done drawing, he dipped his finger back into the paint and then pulled it out again. Instead of drawing on the girl, he drew a green question mark on his right lapel. His laughs echoed throughout the room as he danced around the table, waving his green finger about.

"You must find this as funny as _I _do!" he exclaimed after he stopped right in front of her, waving his painted index finger in front of her. "Well enjoy your little playmate, I'll be back when she's dried!" He emitted another short laugh and then plunged into the surrounding darkness. She heard his footsteps go up the stairs and shielded herself from the light as he exited the room. Once the door slammed shut, she heard the lock squeak and she was once against alone with her thoughts.

And a dead girl.

She couldn't bear looking at her and she hoped he hadn't killed her in order to please his captive. She shook her head as she remembered the news program she had watched long ago about a man who had gone on a killing spree in the 1970s. Serial killers like the Riddler didn't operate that way. After spending a couple minutes with him, she knew that everything he did was for his own benefit. He had killed this girl because _he_ wanted to, not because he wanted to please her. Every motive he had was for self-pleasure. She shuddered at the thought. She hoped he hadn't done anything to her sexually.

Poor girl.

But why hadn't he painted the girl right away instead of telling her riddles and supplying the answers? There had to be a reason for his riddles. She thought back to the people who had told riddles to her before: her grandfather, her math teacher in 7th grade and the odd guy at work who no one liked. Those people had nothing in common as far as she knew and she couldn't apply past experiences to the Riddler when she knew nothing about him. It was time to try another tactic. She huddled her knees up to her chest again and began to think. What were the answers to the riddles he had given her? Maybe he was trying to tell her something with the answers. She racked her brain and remembered the order: a coffin, few and eyelashes. What could they mean? Was that the ultimate riddle that she was meant to solve on her own? Is that why he had given her the answers?

But what did a coffin, few and eyelashes have in common? Coffins are for the dead, few is just a word and eyelashes are a part of the body. Maybe they combined together to make a sentence, she mused. Few coffins have eyelashes. Eyelashes have few coffins. No, that wasn't it. She tried something else. What did they represent? The easy one was coffins for they represented death. But few could mean a lot of things. Few what? Numbers? People? And eyelashes could take the riddle into a couple different directions. Fed up, she sighed and glimpsed at the corpse on the table out of the corner of her eye. And just like that, it hit her. The coffins represented death, few represented a number and eyelashes represented girls.

There would be fewer girls like her because they would be in coffins.

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><p>Author's Note: I'm on a roll with these chapters, I swear! I may not update this quickly all the time but for now I'm going to post them as soon as I finish them. I know this not traditionally how the Riddler is portrayed, but hear me out. I'm a Dark Knight Nerd and I watched the special features on the extras disk. There was a little segment called the psychology of Batman (or something to that extent) and they went through the motivations for each character. When they got to the Riddler, they mentioned that he was egotistical and like Ted Bundy (yes, he's the one who went on a killing spree in the 70s) so I made him into an egotistical serial killer. I know this not canon with Batmanverse, but I wanted to try something new. If you keep reading the story, you will see that he will still have some of the traits of the canon Riddler, so not all hope is lost Riddler fans! And as for the OC in this chapter ... I intentionally made her smart because she wouldn't last long if she was dumb. And her smarts will help her when she's not with the Riddler as well ... whoops did I say that? ;)<p> 


	3. Chapter 3: Waiting For Her

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bruce Wayne/Batman but I do own the OCs and plot. The story title and all chapter titles are names of Pretty Lights songs. **

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><p>Bruce Wayne walked into Wayne Enterprises the following morning. He knew he was very late for one of his shareholder meetings but remained calm as he slowly opened the door to his office building. In his mind, it was better to show up very late instead of falling asleep at the table. Coleman Reese had taught him that lesson. Besides, everything would be sorted out once he met with Lucius Fox. After giving a flirtatious nod and a wink to the main secretary, he made his way to the elevators. No one was around to join him on the ground floor and so he stepped into the elevator without company. He didn't mind and in fact liked the solitude. There was something about the silence that made him relax and completely enjoy life, if only for a small moment.<p>

But Bruce cherished moments like these.

_Ping! _

"Morning," chirped the woman who stepped into the elevator and broke the silence with her clacking heels. As she stood in front of him, Bruce took in her appearance. Her tall, willowy frame was clad in a sleek black business skirt and a striped button down under her matching jacket. Even though he was a male and therefore oblivious to women's fashion, he still noticed that her tiny pink headband matched her equally as pink briefcase. After a couple seconds of awkward silence, he decided the back of the young, blue-eyed blonde was less interesting than his pinky finger. Although she seemed cheerful and perky in her greeting, he preferred his solitude. However, he noticed her eyes were glued to the numbers on top of the elevator and that her left hand shook slightly as she placed it in her suit pocket. He figured she was nervous to be in the same elevator as the company's owner and in that moment, decided to turn on his charm. If she was going to invade his personal elevator space then he might as well be the Bruce Wayne that every woman lusted after. She definitely looked like the type to be enthralled with a playboy billionaire.

"That's quite a briefcase."

"Thanks!" she replied gleefully as she turned around and flashed him a large smile. "Pink is my favorite color."

"I can't say I've ever seen one like it before," he grinned in response.

"It's from Kate Spade's new collection," she said as she looked down at her bag once again and then extended a hand towards him. "Caroline Jennings. I work in the marketing department."

"Bruce Way-"

"I know who you are Mr. Wayne," she said with a giggle. "I _do_ work in the same building as you." He was about to supply a witty response when the elevator began to slow down, alerting them that their ride together was about to come to an end. Part of him wanted to let out a sigh of relief for he still had a couple floors to go and that meant that she was going to get out and leave him alone. However, the other part of him heard nagging voice in his head, telling him that Caroline Jennings would be a perfect distraction from his daily routine and would provide him with an opportunity to have some photos in the tabloids. Bruce tried not to smirk. He loved baiting the gossip magazines with his constant dates.

"Does Kate Spade make appropriate attire for say, drinks?" he mused as the elevator doors opened. She looked back at him, her mouth slightly ajar. It took her a couple of seconds to realize that he was inviting her to have drinks with him and he thrust out his arm to stop the elevator from closing in order to hear her response.

"My attire would depend on the restaurant Mr. Wayne," she said demurely as she looked up at his from under her lashes.

"Lets meet at the bar of La Fleur at 8," he said as he flashed her his megawatt smile and he could almost see her melting inside. He had that effect on women of her caliber.

"I'll meet you then Mr. Wayne," she replied with a small nod and giddy smile.

"Please, call me Bruce," he said as he let go of the doors and let her exit the elevator. The doors closed and he let the sigh he had been holding in. He closed his eyes and drank in the silence as he finished his elevator ride to his office on the top of the building.

After a slight scolding from Lucius about missing the meeting entirely, Bruce spent the rest of the day making his office look lived in. Like most people, he never liked going to work but unlike most people, he only went to work for the sake of appearances. He wished he could have gone down to Applied Sciences to see how Lucius was coming along with the new tumbler he had requested but the man was busy smoothing over the company's numbers. It seemed the meeting he had missed informed the shareholders that the new shipping company called Grenner, Baxter and Boit that Wayne Enterprises had swallowed was starting to turn negative profits. While the rest of the company was in the green, Bruce knew that Lucius was a businessman and liked running a smooth company with all sectors growing instead of diminishing. And so he did as Lucius requested and spent the rest of his afternoon calling important shareholders to give them more confidence in Wayne Enterprises' investment decisions while he played with the mini putting green next to his desk.

At 5 o'clock he took his last stroke, expertly putting the golf ball into the hole at the end of the strip of fake grass. With a grin, he said goodbye to his secretary and took the elevator down the ground floor to meet Alfred. The Rolls Royce was easy to spot and he climbed inside after his butler had opened the door for him.

"How was your day being Bruce Wayne?" Alfred asked with a hint of sarcasm as they pulled away from the building and headed towards his penthouse. "Did you make the meeting?"

"No," Bruce replied, trying to hide a grin. His butler knew him too well. "I got distracted on the elevator ride up. Could you make sure that La Fleur knows I'll be at the bar tonight?"

"Who is the lucky lady?" was the response from the front seat.

"Caroline Jennings. She likes pink and apparently she works in the marketing department."

"That's all you know about her? That she likes pink? I thought you had better taste Master Bruce."

"Well that's why I'll have all night to pick her brain," Bruce said with a laugh. "The less I know about her the better. It will fill the awkward silences. Besides, I need to give the gossip columns something to write about. They love dissecting my dates."

"The poor girl doesn't know what she's getting into, does she?" Alfred sighed as he turned the car into the garage and parked it. The two of them made their way to the elevator that led up the penthouse and climbed inside after it opened. The spent a few moments in silence as they rose above the Gotham Streets until Alfred decided to speak.

"Why do you keep having drinks or going out to dinner with women you aren't remotely interested in Master Wayne? Surely you could find a nice girl-"

"Because," Bruce growled in response, "I'm supposed to be two people. I'm Bruce Wayne, the billionaire who can't keep it in his pants and Batman, who can't get close to anyone or else they will die. There is no room for a stable relationship in either of my lives."

The elevator opened and he stormed out, leaving his trusted butler behind. He made his way to the door and took his key out of his pocket. After thrusting it in the lock, he jiggled it around but could not open the door. He let out another growl as he kept trying to open the lock but it would not budge. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and then attacked the door again, almost pulling the whole thing down with his strength. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Alfred standing next to him. His butler graciously placed his hands on the key and with a swift turn, opened the door.

"I will always be here to help you Master Wayne but sometimes you're going to have to listen to my advice. This double identity is killing you."

"I don't have a choice Alfred! I have to be Bruce Wayne and Batman, I can't choose!"

"If you're stubborn enough to keep both identities then may I suggest you start to find some sort of enjoyment in your life. A new hobby perhaps? Or as I already suggested, a girlfriend?"

"Do you not remember what happened to Rachel?" Bruce roared. "She was going to wait for me Alfred, wait until I could no longer be Batman. And she died! She died because of me!"

Alfred looked down at the floor before entering the penthouse. However, just before leaving to press one of Bruce's expensive suits for the evening's dinner, he looked over his shoulder and said, "If you believe you were the one to kill Miss Dawes then you still have much more grieving to do."

Bruce huffed in response and went to his room to get ready. After taking a long shower, messing with his hair, putting on the suit that Alfred had laid out for him, switching his tie about five times in frustration, putting on his shoes, realizing that his shoes were a different color than his suit, changing them and pacing around the room to calm his anger, he was finally ready. Bruce looked at the clock that read 8:15. He had already told Alfred to bring the car around and then locked up the penthouse as he left for the evening. He had another elevator ride in silence and took a couple deep breaths to tried to absorb as much of the solitude as possible. He knew that Caroline would talk his ear off the entire night. As the elevator opened, he strode out to the Rolls and plunked himself down on the smooth leather seats in the back. As his butler drove off in the direction of La Fleur, Bruce rubbed his temples and prepared for the night by closing his eyes and relaxing.

"Master Bruce," Alfred said softly as the car came to a stop. Bruce opened his eyes and gave him a nod as a thank you. He took one more deep breath before opening the door and then put on his Bruce Wayne, billionaire mask. He flashed his megawatt smile to the cameras and gave a wave as reporters asked the identity of his date for the evening. He coyly said nothing and then made his way to the bar of the expensive restaurant. He spotted Caroline sitting at the bar by her bright blonde hair. He stopped a second and whistled softly to himself. The back of her flowing black dress was completely open, as if daring him to touch it. She had dressed for the occasion, he was sure of that. He alerted her to his presence by sliding onto the bar stool next to her.

"I thought you weren't going to show," she said with small smile as she took a sip of her pink Cosmo.

"I had a couple business things to take care of but I'm here now," he smirked as he signaled the bartender and ordered an expensive scotch. It came instantly and he took a small sip. Although he never liked to drink, he did like the taste of scotch. It burned in his throat but it was a very delightful burn. He could see she was about to ask about his 'business things' and cut her off by saying, "So tell me all about Caroline Jennings."

"Well," she started, "I'm not originally from Gotham. I'm from Los Angeles. My mother and father divorced and my mother took me with her to Gotham when she moved. My brother was much older and decided to stay in Los Angeles to work for my father."

Any polite man would have continued to ask about her father and his business but Bruce wanted her to keep talking about herself. There was one thing he knew about the women he took on dates and that was that they loved to talk about themselves. "So how is Gotham treating you?"

"I love it but not as much as Los Angeles. It gets so cold here!"

"Well Gotham is a city that actually experiences winter," Bruce smirked. "The weather in Los Angeles doesn't reflect the rest of the United States. It's eternal summer there."

"I know! But that's why I miss it so much and go back there often as I can. I have to escape the cold!" She then faked getting the shivers to prove her point.

"Nothing a crackling fire can't fix," Bruce replied as he took another sip of his scotch.

"Oh yes, I agree. I love the fireplaces I have at my new place." She then launched into a large tale about getting her own apartment and how exactly she furnished it. Bruce barely listened as he took small sips of his scotch and discretely looked down at his watch every minute. After a couple more minutes of her incessant talking about her relationship with her mother, Bruce decided to pull the oldest trick in the book. He held out a hand and said a polite "Excuse me" as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and pretended it was ringing. She pouted in response. He flashed her another smile and then wandered off towards the bathroom to make a quick call.

"Shall I bring the car around Master Bruce?"

"As fast as possible Alfred."

He wandered back to the bar and Caroline eagerly waited for him to explain himself. He downed the rest of his scotch and place a hundred-dollar bill on the bar.

"Leaving?" she said, her pout growing by the second.

"Actually yes," Bruce said frowning as he patted her hand. "I just got a call from Lucius Fox, he needs to meet with me about some numbers. I'm sure you heard about our shareholders meeting today."

"He wants to meet with you at _9 o'clock at night_?"

"We should do this again sometime," was all that Bruce replied before giving her a kiss on the cheek and exiting La Fleur. The Rolls was right in front with Alfred standing in front of the open door. Bruce smiled, knowing he now had the rest of the night to patrol Gotham as the Batman.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em> Hi, sorry I haven't updated recently! I've been having some writers block/figuring out how I'm going to structure the story. But don't fear, I've figured it all out and am really excited to keep writing! Please review!


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